Given Murong Jue’s background as a family of military generals and his status as the Marquis of Anding, whoever the visitor might be, they posed not the slightest shred of danger to him.
He lowered his gaze to look at the Emperor.
Long eyelashes and beautiful eyes, more peerlessly exquisite and refined than an immortal in a painting, yet unfortunately, they were always tinged with a trace of melancholy.
Since he loved him, he must redeem him, and moreover, he must assist him with all his might, ensuring that his efforts did not go to waste.
Murong Jue lowered his body and, in a posture utterly unacceptable by any standards of his normal life, crawled beneath the bed.
With a soft creak, the door was pushed open.
Wenchuzhu raised his gaze to look.
The person who entered was dressed in an opulent, gold-trimmed robe, slender of figure, with his long hair meticulously gathered into a high black jade crown. His astonishingly striking face bore its usual air of arrogant detachment.
“Why has the Prince Regent come so late? Is there something you need?”
Xie Huai did not answer Wenchuzhu immediately. His eyes, deep and cold like frigid stars, glanced briefly at the kettle on the table, then drifted to the half-cup of water in Wenchuzhu’s hand, before finally settling on Wenchuzhu’s serene yet pale handsome face to appraise him for a few moments, only to look away. “Just to see if you were still alive.”
The two had not met since Wenchuzhu fell into the water last time.
Yet Xie Huai was thoroughly aware of Wenchuzhu’s illness.
Wenchuzhu kept his emotions hidden. “Then I must disappoint the Prince Regent; I am still alive, and my illness has improved quite a bit.”
With that, Wenchuzhu took a sip of water, wishing to swallow down the bitterness along with it.
Xie Huai approached Wenchuzhu’s bedside, stared at Wenchuzhu’s cheeks which were suffused with a faint layer of flush, and reached out a hand toward him.
Wenchuzhu hurriedly dodged the hand he reached out, retreating further into the inner depths of the bed. Beneath his fluttering, long, curled eyelashes, his phoenix eyes revealed a look of vigilance.
Seeing this, Xie Huai’s expression darkened abruptly, his brows and eyes dispersing with an intense, cold hostility. With a long reach of his arm, he snatched Wenchuzhu, who had retreated into the depths of the bed, by the throat, choking him. “What are you afraid of?”
Before Wenchuzhu could speak, Xie Huai continued, “Are you afraid this prince will kill you? Or are you afraid this prince will devour you?”
Upon hearing that word “devour,” Wenchuzhu understood immediately what it implied.
Just now, his evasion had been purely out of instinct; after all, ever since his fall into the water last time, he had begun to harbor a dread of this man.
Although Murong Jue could not see from beneath the bed, he could ascertain that the hateful wretch was bullying his Emperor.
His hands clenched tightly into fists, suppressing the urge to charge right out.
Wenchuzhu knew himself to be the weaker party; apart from enduring, he had no other choice.
Lowering his eyelids, he remained silent, letting Xie Huai choke his throat while enduring the agony to the fullest extent.
Born as the Crown Prince who was adored by all like stars surrounding the moon and showered with thousands of favors, Wenchuzhu’s aura of noble prestige could not be concealed or erased under any circumstances.
It was as if wealth, honor, and supreme power were all things that rightfully belonged to him in the first place.
This only served to make Xie Huai increasingly resentful. Everything Wenchuzhu possessed was his, it was he who had stripped away everything from him, while Wenchuzhu enjoyed everything that was rightfully his.
He wanted revenge, wanted to provoke him and make him suffer endlessly.
“Wenchuzhu, stop putting on your high and mighty airs. You are the filthiest person alive.” The coldness and sarcasm in Xie Huai’s tone chilled Wenchuzhu to the bone, turning his pale complexion ashen white.
With that, Xie Huai released his grip on Wenchuzhu’s neck, pulled out a handkerchief, and wiped the hand that had touched Wenchuzhu with an unmistakable disgust. “Did you really think this prince would wear clothes that someone else has already worn and left in tatters! Truly sickening.”
His words struck like a sharp blade, piercing deeply into the most fragile place in Wenchuzhu’s heart.
Wenchuzhu’s entire body trembled faintly, the corners of his eyes flushed a thin red and coated in a heavy mist of tears, as he cried out, “Get out!”
As if using up every ounce of his strength to shout those words, Wenchuzhu abruptly coughed up a mouthful of blood.
Witnessing this scene, Xie Huai immediately frowned. Not expecting Wenchuzhu’s body to be so sickly and frail, he drew a bottle of medicine from his sleeve, poured out a single pill, and forcefully pried open Wenchuzhu’s mouth to feed it to him.
“This is a sacred medicine sent as tribute from the Western Regions, capable of curing a hundred illnesses.”
With that, Xie Huai tossed the medicine bottle beside Wenchuzhu’s bed.
Gazing at the medicine bottle beside him and realizing what it meant, Wenchuzhu raised his eyes to look at Xie Huai. “You came here to deliver medicine to me… Why?”
“If you die, this prince won’t be able to torture you or watch you suffer.”
These words completely infuriated Murong Jue beneath the bed. Gripping his dagger tightly, he prepared to charge right out.